


Tranny Chaser

by RazetheAxolotl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Attempt at Humor, Boys in Skirts, Drag Queens, Inspired by Music, M/M, Ridiculous, RuPaul's Drag Race References, Silly, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 14:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazetheAxolotl/pseuds/RazetheAxolotl
Summary: In which Voldemort discovers his innermost desire for pretty boys in skirts.Warning: Ridikulus!





	Tranny Chaser

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Crack fic. Stupidity. Insanity. In all honesty, I just really wanted to get Harry into slutty drag. This was inspired by the best show on earth, ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race’, particularly Season 2, episode 2 and the song “Tranny Chaser” by RuPaul. Listen to the song through the link below or look it up on YouTube! 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/2cWOBCcM22LFHNYPhCnL9T?si=iJ2vYwmQTpKABUF0t6sc7g
> 
> Please note that ‘tranny’ is considered to be an offensive term to the transgender community, and I do not advocate for its use outside of the context of the song, title, and lyrics.
> 
> This used to be posted on AFF (2010), I have edited it slightly and moved it here.

Streetlamps and neon signs illuminated the cobblestoned road. People milled about, walking in and out of propped open club doors, laughing, smoking, and chatting with drinks in their hands. No one noticed the three men that suddenly appeared under a flickering light at the corner of the block.

“Here,” a silky voice drawled amidst the rabble. “This is where we shall spend our evening.”

The voice belonged to a tall, dark haired man who was gesturing at a lurid bright pink neon sign that read “Fish and Sticks”. Any passing wizard would have instantly recognized the man as the great Dark Lord Voldemort. His two cohorts would also have been immediately known as Lucius Malfoy, Minister of Magic, and Severus Snape, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. But no one in this Muggle neighborhood so much as glanced at the black robed men.

The man called Severus Snape scowled up at the sign. “I believe it is ‘fish and chips’, not ‘fish and sticks’. These Muggles must not be particularly bright.”

“I don’t mean to question your methods, my Lord,” Lucius Malfoy murmured, his head bowed in respect towards Voldemort. “But why have you chosen a Muggle establishment to meet in? We own the entire Wizarding world. Why not a pub there?”

“It is not your place to ask, Lucius,” said Lord Voldemort, his voice approaching a dangerous hiss. Lucius flinched. “However, I shall explain: you know of my plans to rule the Muggle world one day. I have decided that I should learn their ways. Would it not be helpful to study the people that we shall soon make cower at our feet?”

“Of course,” said Lucius, bowing his head and drawing his cloak around him. “But – should we not have worn Muggle attire?”

“Your questions are boring me, Lucius. Will you be able to muster up some courage and follow me into this Muggle pub? Or are you a coward?”

Lucius swallowed tightly and nodded with his eyes down while Severus smirked.

“Apologies, my Lord.”

“Then let us dally no longer.”

And they entered the pub that would change Lord Voldemort’s life.

 

* * *

 

“What sort of pub is this?” sneered Lucius, looking furtively around once they’d gotten drinks at the bar. “The women seem to be wearing a garish amount of makeup. Are we in a brothel?”

Voldemort did not want to admit that Lucius had a point, but he too had noticed the women. Most were very tall and had rather outrageous outfits on. A loud snort tore him from his thoughts and he turned to see Severus shaking in silent amusement. It was quite shocking to see the man laughing at all and it made Voldemort extremely uncomfortable.

“Would you care to share what is so humorous, Severus?” he hissed.

The man quickly composed himself. “I believe, based on the clientele, that we are in what is referred to as a ‘Drag’ bar.”

Voldemort and Lucius stared in silence until a tall woman with a feather boa suddenly appeared next to them.

“Oooh, Honey! I loooove your wig! Is this human or synthetic?”

Lucius bared his teeth when the woman reached out and snatched up the ends of his blonde hair. Voldemort cast a quick and silent Confundus and the woman’s heavily painted eyes widened before she released Lucius and quickly walked away, muttering about her cat. The three men exhaled and Voldemort spun to face Severus.

“What is a ‘Drag’ bar?” Voldemort asked in his deadliest of tones. He did not like asking questions.

Severus adopted his professorial drawl. “It is a pub frequented by men who – ah – dress as women. Rather tacky versions of women, as you can see. They are called drag queens. Those who enjoy their presence also are in attendance.”

Voldemort stared while Lucius recoiled in obvious horror.

“You mean that the woman who just accosted me was–”

“And why would men dress as women?” Voldemort interrupted, ignoring Lucius.

“There are many reasons,” said Severus. “Most of which are based in the psychological realm, although some may do it as a profession.”

“Are you telling me that Muggles pay men to prance around in women’s clothing?” asked Lucius, his lips pulled back in revulsion.

“I believe they perform services. They sing. Or dance. Or tell jokes. Some may perform sexual services.”

“Why not just get a real woman?” said Lucius, aghast. 

Severus glared. “Why don’t you ask one of these men here? I certainly don’t know.”

“You are right, Severus,” said Voldemort, looking around at the patrons. “These men and…drag queens… represent a peculiar sect of Muggle society. We should investigate them thoroughly.”

“Why are they called ‘queens’?” asked Lucius, staring around. “Do they hold some sort of royal position in the Muggle world?”

Before Severus could respond, a loud hoot came from the stage centered against the back wall, and the three wizards turned to see a tall, rotund drag queen wearing a sparkling red dress that hugged her hourglass figure with blonde hair that scraped the ceiling.

“You better sit down now, boys!” she called to the audience in a deep, throaty voice. Voldemort raised an eyebrow at the low timbre. The drag queen noticed and looked right at him. “You too, honey! I see you staring at me! Sit down!”

Voldemort’s eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch higher before he calmly sank down in a vacant chair at a table close to the stage. He motioned with a barely there inclination of his head for Severus and Lucius to join him as he pondered whether to kill the Muggle later.

“That’s right, you better listen. Boys, I’ve got a special treat for you! It’s Burlesque Night here at ‘Fish and Sticks’!”

The men in the audience whooped and hollered, clapping their hands and running to find seats at the tables arranged around the stage. The bestial grunts of the Muggles made Voldemort’s wand hand itch to silence them, but he wanted to see what had caused this reaction. A metal pole was slowly rising from the center of the stage.

“Yes, boys! Get out your money! You better make it rain on my girls tonight!”

Several men around him started to reach into their pockets, pulling out crumpled pieces of paper that Voldemort knew to be the Muggle currency. He reached into his own pockets and clenched his Galleons before casting a transfiguring spell on them, then glared at Severus and Lucius, silently ordering them to follow suit. Voldemort turned his attention back to the drag queen. He understood the direct order to produce money, but what did she mean by ‘make it rain’?

“Alright now! Our first performer is our little baby. It’s her first time solo, so you boys be gentle now!”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just leave and find another pub?” Lucius whispered in his ear. “Surely we could better observe the Muggles without dealing with this insanity!”

“Give your best welcome to ‘Fish and Sticks’ little Dirty Harriet!”

Voldemort was about to answer. He was about to say that they would stay for one performance, then leave. But he found himself incapable of responding. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he could speak at all.

Legs. Long slender legs with a hint of muscle, covered by glittering nude tights. Feet in dangerously high red heels with bows around the ankles. Legs that Voldemort could imagine wrapping around his waist were walking in a slow, seductive path towards the pole. His eyes traveled further up to stop at a sinfully short black skirt that flared above red ruffles. Men were whooping around him, but all Voldemort could hear was the pounding of his own blood in his ears as he took in the narrow waist and slender arms, the long neck, and finally the china doll face of a green-eyed beauty with red hair flowing down her back. Or was it his back?

“Merlin!”

Voldemort whirled to see Severus with his mouth agape and his eyes wide. The greasy-haired man looked even paler than usual. A sudden swoop of hate clouded Voldemort’s vision. How dare his slave covet what was obviously meant for _him_? But before he could hex the man into oblivion, a pounding beat filled the room and the men began cheering.

_"It’s some Tranny Chasers up in here!_

_Welcome to my stratosphere (fierce fierce)_

_Make a move, whachoo wanna do?_

_I ain’t got no time for some looky-loo, boo"_

The girl (boy, Voldemort reminded himself), grabbed the pole with both hands and swung herself with apparent ease around and to the ground, much to the delight of the men, who began tossing money onto the stage. Dirty Harriet smiled and began to grind against the pole with exaggerated motions. Voldemort wondered if he would have to leave before he embarrassed himself. One man next to him stood up and was waving a paper bill, gesturing for the drag queen to come closer. Voldemort watched, seething with jealousy, as Dirty Harriet pranced over and bent at the waist, taking the money from the man’s hand between her perfect white teeth and slowly raising herself up again, back arched. Before he could comprehend his actions, Voldemort found himself standing, holding up a wad of crumpled bills.

“My Lord! It’s not a real female!” Lucius hissed at his waist. “And – it’s a Muggle!” Apparently he couldn’t decide which was worse.

“Silence you fool! Offer your money!”

“My Lord?”

“Do not question me, servant!”

Lucius hurried to pull out transfigured Galleons and he threw them haphazardly onto the stage. Severus still had not stopped gawking in apparent fascination and illness. The man had a thing for redheads, Voldemort remembered vaguely.

Dirty Harriet noticed him, and Voldemort couldn’t stop the leer that covered his face as the young queen sauntered towards him. Phrases such as ‘lamb to the slaughter’ were drifting through Voldemort’s head. He would have this Muggle. He _would_.

Dirty Harriet bent forward again at the waist, seemingly wanting Voldemort to put his bills down her corset. Voldemort raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, murmuring, “There’s more where this came from. See me after your performance.”

The green-eyed minx winked and said in a breathy whisper, “If you make it rain, I’ll do more than just _see_ you after.”

Voldemort’s eyes widened. He slipped the money into the corset and stepped back, wrapping his cloak about himself. He was positive that his erection must be visible to the entire audience, never mind that none of them were looking his way.

_"So the hunter got captured by the game_

_It ain’t the first time a playa got played_

_Won’t be the last time you hear a t-girl say_

_'You want it wet, then you better make it rain!'”_

Dirty Harriet was now doing a slow descending split, and men were throwing their money in waves. Voldemort turned to Severus, who held the rest of their Galleons.

“Quickly, Severus! Make it rain!”

“M-my Lord?”

“THROW THE MONEY YOU IMBECILE!”

Severus jerked himself out of his trance and threw their remaining bills onto the stage. Voldemort watched with satisfaction as the paper showered over his red-headed beauty, and he sat back, content to wait until after the show.

 

* * *

 

A half hour later, while another drag queen performed onstage, Dirty Harriet tip-toed on her high heels out to the audience and plopped herself down into Voldemort’s lap before he could say a word. Voldemort’s hands flew up to dig possessively into her waist and she inhaled sharply before giving him a sweet smile.

“So you liked my debut performance?”

Voldemort smiled a shark’s smile, his eyes greedily taking in the dark eyeliner and pouty red lips. “Yes, Harriet. I enjoyed it very much.”

The drag queen smirked and glanced at his two companions. Lucius was attempting to ignore them while Severus looked ready to vomit. “Your friends don’t seem to be as satisfied as you.”

“They are fools.” Voldemort said calmly. Dirty Harriet giggled. Voldemort did a quick sweep of Severus’ mind and found that the man was still pining over that red-headed Mudblood – Liza, or Lucy, or some such – and he murmured, “My companion has an aversion to red-heads.” Voldemort’s hand drifted up to touch the red wig. “Is there any other look you have?”

Dirty Harriet wrinkled her tiny nose, then reached up and yanked off her wig, revealing messy ebony locks that curled around her ears and swept into her eyes. It was much easier to tell that Dirty Harriet was a boy this way, and Voldemort found himself to be even more aroused.

“Better?”

Voldemort heard the screech of a chair being pushed back and the hurried footsteps of retreat. Voldemort sighed. Severus also had a deep loathing for messy black hair. “That’s much better,” he purred indulgently. “Lucius – go attend to our companion. Keep him company while I… enjoy myself.”

Dirty Harriet giggled again and smirked as Lucius stood and fled. “Are you rich or something? They follow all your orders.”

“And will you also follow them, Harriet?” asked Voldemort in his silkiest drawl, sliding one hand from the tiny waist down to the ruffled skirt. He could feel the boy tense in his lap and his smile grew even wider.

“Depends on what they are, Mister,” the drag queen replied smartly, batting his false eyelashes.

Voldemort nodded and the Imperius Curse bubbled up in his mind and he silently commanded, _Obey me, Darling. Kiss me._

The black lashes fluttered, and red-stained lips parted in confusion. Dirty Harriet leaned forward, and Voldemort grabbed a fist-full of the boy’s hair, ready to plunder the surrendered mouth. But then, the boy blinked and shook himself. “Wait– ” he muttered. “I’m not a prostitute you know.”

Voldemort gaped in surprise. This Muggle had refused the command of the Imperius Curse? How intriguing. He released his grip on Dirty Harriet’s hair and said as soothingly as possible, “Of course not. I apologize if I came across too strong.”

Dirty Harriet still looked confused, and glanced between their bodies. “The money is just for the dance,” he said softly, looking almost embarrassed. “I know some of the other girls do it but…I can’t.” He looked up and met Voldemort’s gaze with such a doe-eyed noble expression that the older man almost sneered. Trust him to find the one drag queen with a righteous streak.

“I understand, Harriet. Perhaps I shall visit again, and prove to you that I am worthy of your affections.”

Harriet laughed at his serious tone, then pecked him on his severe cheek. Voldemort’s hands clenched again reflexively on the small waist. “Okay, Mister. Maybe next time you can buy me dinner.”

Then, before Voldemort could steal so much as a grope, the boy was off his lap and sashaying away, men catcalling as he passed. Voldemort watched him go and licked his lips. It would be a hunt then.

His last thought before leaving the raucous pub was that maybe for once, Lucius had been right… they should not have come here. Plans for world domination seemed rather dull compared to seducing a young Muggle drag queen with the power to resist the Imperius curse. Mudblood and Muggle subordination would have to wait. But it would be worth it. Images of those long legs and skinny waist swam behind Voldemort’s eyes, along with red lips and emerald eyes.

Yes. It would be worth it.  

**Author's Note:**

> May the Fierce be with you!


End file.
